


Morning Kiss

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: privateeyes, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter is put in the hands of a psychic and provokes interesting results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas Mal and Kaytee, who made this story 

## Morning Kiss

by Claudel

Author's webpage: <http://www.internetdump.com/users/enchanteresse>

so much better and saved it from being trashed. *g* 

I would love to have feedback, good or bad. 

* * *

The red-haired woman frowned and contemplated the letter sitting on the kitchen table with a pensive expression. She had the look of someone who had just noticed a fascinating new element and was pondering over what to make of it. 

The little man sitting across from her was too interested in sipping his morning coffee to notice her distraction, or the sunshine streaming through the hotel window highlighting her fiery red hair. 

His thoughts were turned inward, and he looked so miserable that it was almost comical. His round face didn't seem built for this kind of emotion, and it made him look like a clown expressing an exaggerated sadness to entertain an audience. 

"I think something is going on with Blair," Naomi quietly stated. She seemed to be talking to herself and not expecting an answer from her companion, but the little man suddenly looked interested. 

"Your son got himself into trouble again?" he asked with a knowing expression. 

Too many times to count, he'd been on the receiving end of Naomi's narration of what was going on in her son's life. It seemed that she was always worrying because of the too carefully worded letters that she received irregularly. Blair always painted colorful descriptions of the last case he had been involved with, but always as a witness, not as an active participant. Naomi had the strong suspicion that some adventures attributed to Jim had rather happened to her son. 

But Charley Spring wasn't a psychic for nothing. He had been able once to tell Naomi that her son had been caught in a shooting just by touching one of the letters. Ever since then, Naomi would hand him the letters and have Charley fill in the missing information. 

One time, he had told her that Blair had been shot while tracking an escaped criminal in the forest, even though the observer had pretended in the letter to have stayed behind, letting Jim handle it. This had caused Naomi to frantically jump on the phone in order to extract the truth from a mystified Blair, who couldn't possibly guess how she had known. And had created another repeat of Naomi trying to convince her son to give up police work. 

But Charley asking with a puzzled expression if they had a zoo in Cascade because he had 'seen' a black panther had only caused her amusement. She had been sure that it was the product of Blair's imagination, along with the narration of Chopecs running about the streets of Cascade. 

Of course, lately, even something so simple as getting impressions by touching the letters had not worked for Charley. 

Naomi shook her head. "No...I am simply getting strange vibrations when I read his letter..." 

Charley smirked and put back his coffee on the table with an exaggerated flourish. "Something else for the great Charley Spring to solve?" he said out of habit, not really believing it himself anymore. 

"Charley." There was a note of warning in her voice, even if it was full of indulgent affection. 

"I am not bragging, Naomi," the little man insisted by raising one fat finger, "I am merely offering my humble help." He smiled again, oozing charm. The prospect of an opportunity to use his gifts on a simple problem was enough to considerably lift his spirits. 

Charley had to admit that he was downright intrigued by the relationship between the big cop and the student. When he had briefly lived in the loft during the case of the kidnapped little girl, he had wondered more than once why two grown men were living in the same space. He couldn't picture Ellison as the type to rescue a grad student by offering his spare bedroom. But it was startling to see how well they worked together. He couldn't help but wonder how Blair had managed to get along so well with someone who was, in his opinion, rigid and closed to new experiences. 

Charley pushed away the thought that trying to use his gift to gain publicity had certainly not helped his case with the suspicious cop. It was disturbing how often he was having these kinds of thoughts lately. It had started when his psychic gifts had slowly abandoned him. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He could still remember a passionate young man telling him he had a gift and what would happen to it if he used it for the wrong purposes... 

The little man shook himself; introspection wasn't natural for him. "What is going on with Blair?" he tried again. 

Naomi shook her head. "Actually, things seem to be quiet for a change. But there is something in the tone of Blair's letter..." 

When no additional information seemed forthcoming, Charley inquired, "What about his tone?" 

"Well, he's telling me about Jim getting a reward because he has the highest percentage of solved cases in his department and that they went camping for the weekend to celebrate, even if Jim wasn't exactly happy to be considered for public honors again. But it is the way Blair talks about him..." Naomi paused, trying to pinpoint what was different in the way her son was writing about his friend's success. 

"Give me that letter, Naomi, I will tell you anything you want to know," Charley affirmed with a confidence he didn't feel. 

Naomi turned a concerned look his way. "Charley, you have to take some rest," she gently tried to tell him. "You need to give it some time and not stress yourself so much over it. I am sure it will come back on its own." 

Pushing aside his inner fears that he would only see darkness instead of the hits that had built his reputation as a psychic, he deliberately ignored her advice. It was going to work this time, even if he had to die trying. 

He snatched the letter from the table and held it in his hands, trying desperately to focus. To Naomi who was anxiously watching him, fearing another episode of depression if he was to fail again, the expression that he suddenly had was very peculiar. He looked startled and closed his eyes, holding the paper tightly between his hands, eyebrows knitted in concentration. A bewildered expression appeared on his face, mixed with a dawning look of delight, like he was finally getting something after all those weeks. 

"Charley? Charley? Is it working?" Naomi asked with a worried tone. 

He abruptly dropped the letters as if he'd been burnt by the vibes emanating from the papers. 

"I have rarely gotten such strong impressions," he muttered to himself. Then he looked back at Naomi with a cautious expression. "Hmm, Naomi, how would you feel about Blair falling in love with a man?" 

He was prepared for a less-than-thrilled reaction. The absolutely delighted smile that dawned on Naomi's face really shocked him. 

"Finally, he has figured it out," she said to herself, absolute happiness in her voice. She quickly stood up and enthusiastically grabbed her purse, turned it upside down over the table and quickly looked through the various items for her address book. 

"I need to call Jim," she said by way of explanation to the man who was staring at her like she had gone mad. 

"Call Jim?!" the psychic literally squeaked, forgetting to be happy about having his abilities back online in his haste of trying to change Naomi's mind. "He is a cop! I don't want to know what his reaction is going to be to that! " He looked around like he half-expected the big detective to appear and beat him up just at the suggestion of calling him. 

But Naomi was already reaching for the phone and dialing the number. 

* * *

Three days later, in Cascade, Washington... 

I was looking at Jim over the edge of my algae shake, while pretending to be into my usual morning semi-comatose state. It's not like it's very difficult to fake. I'm the first to admit that I'm not a morning person; that's the understatement of the year. The world in the early hours is always some kind of blur. I suppose that it is how a fish feels when it is looking outside an aquarium at the outside world. 

But this morning, our usual peaceful routine was quite disturbed. I know it may sound strange to use the word 'peaceful' in Cascade, but apparently the bad guys have the same opinion that I have about waking up too early. Anyway, my concern at the moment was Jim. He was sporting his most stoic expression while munching on his toast, using the newspaper as a shield. 

Let me tell you, I really _hate_ that expression. It means I'll have to do the guide thing and pry information out of him while he is fighting me every step of the way. Of course, he would never admit that he would actually be disappointed if I didn't try to do it. But I'm sure he would be. 

The muscle in Jim's jaw was jumping and tension was radiating from him. I felt so nervous that I nearly winced every time Jim turned a page; the sound of the newspaper seemed too loud in the silence. 

There were other obvious signs that something was wrong. Jim is usually obscenely cheerful and active in the morning. I once speculated that it is because of his time in the army that he has this sickening ability to wake up at the first ray of dawn without any problems. He also shamelessly takes advantage of it to tease me in the morning, when I am too groggy to defend myself. His favorite subject of attack is the complete disorder of my hair just after getting out of bed. He asked me once if I didn't feel like I was trying to tame a wild beast, or had paralleled it with the thickness of the Peruvian jungle. 

But today, Jim was completely silent. 

I jumped when he suddenly stood away from the table and almost sent the chair crashing on the floor. 

"Something wrong, Jim?" I finally risked, hoping that he would not hurt a man who was still in his boxers, shivering because of the coldness of the beginning of the fall season. 

"Everything's fine, Chief," Jim practically growled, which only increased my worry. Jim had a whole collection of ready-made sentences that were all a variation of 'everything is fine with the world' that he only used when everything was, in fact, going very badly. I had also noticed long ago that I should particularly worry when Jim used the 'I'm 100%' one. 

I hesitated, then stood up and wandered into Jim's more immediate space, covering my move by pretending to straighten various objects on the shelves. I'm sure he could see right through my act, but the direct approach wasn't going to work this time, I could tell. The man was ready to grab his keys and jacket and bolt through the door. 

I knew better than try to encourage him to open up and express his feelings when he is in this state of mind. Hell, I knew better than try to do this on a normal day. The man has a very low tolerance for everything he calls my 'New Age hippie philosophy' when he is having a good day, and 'all that crap' when he is having a bad one. When he has all his old covert ops defenses in place, it's almost impossible to get through to him. I opted for asking an apparently innocent question instead. 

"Will you will need me at the station today?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could. Okay, I admit I don't do innocent very well, but I am getting better, really. Jim didn't even notice I was lying the other day when I told him I had every intention of cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. 

I stared at him between my eyelashes, so it would not be too obvious. I couldn't miss the way his whole body tensed and he tried to look everywhere but at me. I have to admit that completely amazed me. Jim almost seemed to panic at the suggestion, and he doesn't panic easily. 

In order to continue the investigation (I didn't spend so much time with the cops without picking up some of their habits), I stepped directly into his personal space, almost chest to chest, and craned my neck to look into his eyes. The expression that Jim wore was now definitively in the 'deer caught in headlight' category. I was confused. If I had not known better, I would have swore that Jim was afraid of me, as ridiculous as it sounds. 

I opened my mouth to attempt to clear up the situation, but Jim effectively cut me off. In fact, I don't think I even had the time to blink, when two strong hands grabbed my shoulders and I ended up with my back to the wall, effectively maintained there by Jim's strength. I had a split second to flash to the moment of our first meeting when the big cop had slammed me against the wall in my office, then Jim's mouth was suddenly on mine. Whoa. 

I heard myself make some kind of muffled sound of shock and protestation before Jim buried his hands in my hair and tilted my head to have better access to my mouth. It was the last thing I expected him to do. Somehow, it never occurred to me not to cooperate; it was simply my first instinct. 

Maybe I was pushing the faithful companion thing a bit too far. I shivered when I felt the roughness of his tongue tracing my skin and licking me, then it dove between my parted lips. I opened my mouth wider to accommodate him, even if part of my brain was seriously wondering what was going on. 

What was even more shocking was that I had never really been kissed like this before; it was like Jim was trying to explore and possess every part of my mouth. None of my past lovers had had such intensity in their kisses. Maybe I had been missing something. 

Our bodies were pressed together intimately and unexpected warmth traveled through me, making me tingle all over. Of all the times to realize that Jim Ellison could turn me on so much that I was burning with desire in about five seconds flat... 

I realized after a moment that I was gripping Jim's biceps, that I badly needed oxygen and that I was kissing him back with an almost equal enthusiasm. 

I am not sure if my own reaction spooked me, but I think it really shocked Jim. He abruptly released me, looked directly into my eyes for about two seconds with a dazed expression and then ran out of the loft before I could react. 

One minute his very large body was warming me up, the next one he was gone. I slumped against the wall and touched my lips. I could feel my heartbeat beating in my lips. I bet that if I had looked into a mirror, they would have been swollen. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to do that; I was sure I had a very bewildered, strange expression right now. 

My god...I could still taste Jim. _Jim_. It was certainly a masculine flavor. I moaned and let my head fall into my hands when I also realized that my boxers were more than a little too tight now. Damn, I cannot handle this kind of excitement so early in the morning. 

* * *

I jumped so obviously when the phone rang on Brown's desk that I attracted a few curious looks. I silently cursed and tried to drag my attention back to the report I was writing, but it was no use. My hearing was simply dialed up too high and even visualizing the dials didn't seem to help to bring them back under control. 

Probably because I couldn't use the dials without associating them with Sandburg, and he was exactly the one person I was trying not to think of right now. Of course, it had exactly the same effect of asking someone not to think of a polar bear with blue eyes. The mind automatically conjures up the image. 

I had been on edge the whole morning, expecting Blair to show up in the bullpen or at least call me. I could feel my senses working overtime, trying to find Sandburg before he could unexpectedly appear before me, demanding explanations, forcing me to make certain admissions before I was ready. My senses were completely escaping my control, and it wasn't helping. I was in what could only be described as a bitchy mood. 

I was painfully conscious that it was ridiculous, but I was scared to death to have to face Sandburg after what I had done this morning. Yes, I can easily recognize that I am scared. That's a feeling that I have often experienced in relation with my partner. When I am not afraid that his insistence of staying by my side, endangering himself while helping me on my job, will lead him to an early grave, I am absolutely terrified that he could realize the same thing and decide to quit. How many death threats does it take before a civilian like Sandburg decides he's had enough? Or maybe having his former best friend kiss him was enough to do it? 

If only I had managed to escape one minute earlier, I would have been able to resist the temptation. But he had of course realized there was something wrong with me. There are days I really wish I wasn't the bug under the microscope. 

I should have known he would not leave it alone but instead would keep digging until he discovered what was wrong. Maybe it's the archeological background, or something. I really find strange that he has not already shown up and asked for a detailed explanation. A part of me would be relieved to have this confrontation over with. 

Well, it wasn't exactly like Sandburg needed explanations. He is a bright guy; I am sure I made fairly clear what I wanted from him. He's probably wondering right now if all my touches and my offer to share my loft were not hiding something else. Shit. I really messed this up. 

But I am really making up worse case scenarios, here. I know the guy, after all. He would probably be very sympathetic and want to talk it through with me. Kindly tell me that he doesn't have this kind of feelings, or something, and try to work it out with me. 

After all, maybe I am lucky he is not here right now. He has no problems whatsoever about starting personal conversations in the bullpen. Once he realized that it was possible for him to speak very low and I could still hear him, he has taken full advantage of it. Sometimes I wonder if he is not happy to have finally found a captive audience, someone who can't run away from his constant chatter. 

Damn. I am really in a bad mood. Sandburg certainly doesn't deserve that kind of remark. 

But there was still no sign of Blair. Maybe he's busy packing all his possessions and making arrangements with a friend to crash somewhere else tonight. I know he would probably not do that to me, even if it's only because he is always concerned about my senses causing me problems, but I cannot help having doubts. 

After all, I cannot claim to really understand him. Most of the times, his reactions are a complete mystery to me. Oh, I know he always seemed like a very open-minded person; still, it would not be surprising if the lady-killer had problems handling his male roommate suddenly jumping his bones. 

Okay, okay, it was only a kiss, but he will never know how close I was to doing a little more. And that is unforgivable. To force myself onto a friend, without asking his permission.... He should be pressing charges against me, and I would deserve it. 

But...he _did_ kiss me back. I can't help it, when he suddenly relaxed against me, kissed me back... 

This is too painful. This is too close to what I really want. Sentinel senses be damned to hell, I will remember for the rest of my life the way his mouth tasted. I better cherish that memory, because I can be sure he won't let me get that close again. 

I jump and suddenly realize I have been staring at the same piece of paper for the last fifteen minutes, with my pen suspended in mid-air. Normally, Sandburg...Blair...would have been taking care of this kind of paperwork. He became my partner, after being my roommate, my best friend, my anchor in this whole sentinel craziness. I would sell my soul to the devil to have him as a lover as well. 

Talk about being pathetic. I probably managed to alienate him this morning. I could at least have tried the dinner and flower approach first. What will happen if I come home tonight and he is gone? I hate to admit this, but I don't think my life will be very interesting at all if I don't have him bouncing next to me wherever I go. I simply cannot picture it. Unthinkable. 

What was I doing before I met him? How did I survive? I cannot go back to that time. It's not possible. 

* * *

I have been confused before, but right now, my head is in a purely chaotic state. Chaos. It's the only way I can describe all the voices shouting contradictory advices in my head. 

My laptop is open before me, and I am pretending to work. What a joke. It's my only day of the week without commitments at the University, so I should be with Jim, working on paperwork at the station or running around the city after some criminals. Instead I am at home (I wonder how Jim would react if he knew I consider his loft as 'home'), trying to resist the temptation to go confront or call him. 

All my instincts are screaming to me to go see Jim and try to straighten this whole mess before it's too late. Jim doesn't take emotional problems very well. I know that. I know that once Caroline went to San Francisco, he never mentioned her existence again. Ditto for all the women who crossed his path at some point and who have the power to invoke some painful memories. 

Well, thinking of it, there isn't any woman who doesn't invoke any painful memories for him. I am scared shitless to end up like them, in a little compartment of Jim's head, thrown neatly in a labeled box and destined to be forgotten somewhere in the basement. I mean, Jim has repression down to an art form. 

The only problem is that I have no idea what I should say. There is no etiquette book that will tell you the proper way to play it off if your same-sex friend ravishes your month one morning and then runs away. Playing the offended virgin would be difficult to pull off because I am honest enough with myself to admit that I enjoyed the kiss. 

Anyway, I cannot see myself trying to play the virgin in any situation. I have to stifle a nervous laugh at this point. 

Worse yet, Jim had certainly noticed, since I had my tongue down his throat too. That little detail should not bother me since it's Jim who kissed me first, but still, I don't like the idea that my very male friend knows that I am attracted to him. I would rather know that _he_ is attracted to me, while he stays in the dark about me being attracted to him. Much safer that way. 

Okay, I admit it, it's not exactly news for me. But I had managed to sweep it off in a corner of my brain, under the label of 'it will never happen so you better forget about it.' Yes, I have been aware for some time that I really love the guy. Really, really love him. And that it would be nice if in a moment of madness I would actually get to act on those feelings. I mean, the guy is my best friend, and I already pretty much spend all my waking moments with him. It would be very nice to be able to be _more_ for him. 

It doesn't mean I was breathlessly waiting for it to happen, or that I had been wondering for a while how it would feel like to get to touch him... Or speculating about how he would be in bed. 

Uh-oh. Maybe I should stop teasing Jim with that repression thing. I am getting pretty good at it myself. 

Okay, hypothetically, let's consider the idea that Jim might also have been hiding some attraction for me. A guy can dream. Even if I try not to consider how bizarre that idea is, I still have no idea what to do. 

Jim Ellison is not the man who kissed me this morning. Jim Ellison is my very macho friend who just loves to point out what train wreck my love life is. Somehow, I don't see how I can reconcile those two. 

Yeah, yeah, I love the guy, but that is not very helpful. I can picture myself initiating sex with Jim, but a relationship? It's easy to hit on someone, or simply pounce them - a move otherwise referred to as suddenly kissing your roommate one morning, and no, I am not obsessing - but how in the world do you pull off inviting that guy on a date? 

What am I supposed to do? Invite him to the movies, cop a feel in the darkness, offer him flowers, chastely kiss him on the doorstep? Damn, that's ridiculous. One might consider we have been dating for two years, anyway. 

I jump to my feet and start pacing nervously in the living room, pulling at my hair in frustration. I have to use up some of this nervous energy or I am going to end up bouncing off the walls and yelling at the top of my lungs. 

I cannot think of it in any other terms: it's like a black hole suddenly opened beneath my feet. Things had been going so well with the partnership with Jim; I had settled into the routine of doing some police work and helping a modern sentinel without feeling like I am flying blind all the time, and now this! I need someone to explain me what the hell happened this morning. When did we take that left turn into Twilight zone? 

The phone suddenly rang, and my heart feels like it is about to burst out of my chest. I have _got_ to get a grip. Right now the phone looks like a snake ready to bite me. This isn't good. 

I hesitate, wary of answering...of who will be on the other end. What if it's Jim? I am not ready to talk to him! I won't be ready for _that_ until I am old and wise...like in about 100 years. But I can't _not_ answer the phone! What would he think if I deliberately ignored it? Knowing him, he would probably start wondering what psycho kidnapped me this time. 

With great reluctance, I pick up the receiver and bring it up to my ear, cringing in advance...but instead, it is a woman's voice on the line. It takes me a while to actually register what she is saying. 

"Blair, sweetie, I'm afraid, I might have made a little mistake the other day," Naomi confessed to me with a great deal of worry. 

* * *

Jim slowly entered the darkened, moonlit loft, deliberately keeping his senses on a normal level. He was too afraid to let his sense of hearing have free reign, because he knew he would automatically try to pinpoint Blair. Determine if the young man was still there. Maybe his worse fears had come true, and he was truly gone. If that was the case, he didn't want to know. 

Not just yet. It was better to look at the lights of the city through the window, at the moonlight tracing patterns on the floor, to bask in the quiet of his apartment when it was after midnight and all the neighbors had gone to bed. When the only sounds you could hear was the quiet humming of the fridge and the traffic in the distance... The cop closed his fist when he realized that his traitorous senses had not obeyed his commands again. They were seeking out Blair. 

He could not hear a thing coming from the small bedroom. 

Jim remained there a long time, standing frozen in the darkness, thinking that maybe it was time to have a good old-fashioned breakdown. After all, there was only so much a man could take before losing his sanity. Jim was perfectly conscious that he had been walking a very thin line between madness and sanity for a good part of his life; he didn't need a grad student who had minored in psychology to tell him this. 

But now seemed a good moment to lose it. It didn't matter that it hadn't happened when he'd woken up injured in a destroyed helicopter, his men dead, stranded in the Peruvian jungle, thinking he was going to die. It didn't matter that he'd managed to keep on living after seeing many of his old friends and lovers die. It only mattered that he had finally kissed the man he couldn't live without this morning. And this man had bolted. 

At this moment, he heard the sound of sheets rustling in the bed upstairs. His heart started beating again, painfully pounding against his ribs. He took the stairs three by three and stared at the bundle who was sleeping on his bed, the disheveled long hair on his pillow, the smell of Blair rising in his bedroom. 

For a moment, the older man was too relieved to simply see him there that he didn't wonder what the student was doing sleeping in his bed. But then it hit him that it wasn't very likely that Blair had chosen this night to do a little sleep walking. Maybe there was some kind of message here... 

Jim took a few steps toward the bed and stopped when his shadow fell over the upturned face, contemplating his friend in silence, wondering what he was supposed to do. But then Blair's eyelids fluttered and opened, staring directly at the sentinel, as if he wasn't the least surprised to see him standing there. As if he had known right along that it was him. 

"I was waiting for you," Blair whispered in the stillness of the night. He sat on the bed and slowly stretched, obviously still half asleep. 

"Why?" the cop barely managed to answer with a rough voice. 

"I figured you wouldn't come back until very late. That you were off brooding somewhere. Figured I couldn't miss you if I was waiting in your bed, right?" he answered with a touch of amusement in his voice and a gleam in his eyes. 

Jim closed his eyes, not wanting to look anymore at what the moonlight was doing to his friend's eyes, not wanting to think about Blair's scent imprinted in his sheets.... 

"Why?" he repeated again, wanting to hear the real answer. 

"Naomi called me." Jim could hear the rustle of the sheets when the younger man shrugged. "She was afraid she'd gotten me into trouble, that she'd shocked you. How did she put it? Oh, yes, that she had 'forgotten how macho cops can be.' Apparently, you impressed my mom so much that she had forgotten you were one of the pigs." 

"She didn't shock me," he automatically denied, not even knowing himself if it was true or not. 

"Come on, Jim, the fact that my mother happily started chatting with you, convinced that we were a couple, _certainly_ surprised you. Even a stoic cop like you gets a little surprised when it's implied that he's in a hot homosexual relationship with his long-haired, male roommate." Blair was clearly teasing him now, his eyes alit with mischief. 

Jim shifted from one foot to the other, not sure he wanted to have this discussion. He didn't know what he should do...balk at Blair to get out of his bed, or simply hop in and pretend he wasn't there. 

"Well, yes, I was surprised," he admitted, knowing full well that his jaw had been hitting the floor by then, when he had heard Naomi's voice on the phone, thinking at first that she wanted to talk to Blair. When instead she had started chatting with him as if he was basically her son-in-law. 

Blair sighed and shook his head. "Look, man, I'm _truly_ sorry she sprang the news on you like this. You should have heard it from me, I guess, but most of the time I don't even think about it, it's not exactly like I define myself around it, so..." 

"You mean you're really bisexual?" Jim interrupted, too stunned to hear the confirmation from his previously apparently straight 'table leg jumping' friend. 

"Well, yes, but really, it's just a label. It doesn't mean much of anything," Blair dismissed with a wave of his hand. "It's not exactly like she revealed to you my darkest secret, Jim. I like people and I always thought that maybe if I was to meet the right guy along the way, I would be interested, but it never really happened, so...." 

Blair was apparently completely at ease, but the detective could tell that he was being watched for his reaction. 

Jim was very tempted at that point to ask him what was his description of the right guy, but he bit his lips instead. 

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Chief. It's your personal life, after all," he gruffly told him, wondering when this little confrontation was going to end, when Blair was going to bring out the subject of the kiss this morning. 

"So, why did you kiss me, Jim?" Blair casually asked him just then. 

Too casually. Jim dialed up his senses to check out his friend. The elevated heartbeat and nervous breathing instantly betrayed Sandburg; he was pretending to be more relaxed than he was in reality. In fact, it sounded more like he was about to have an anxiety attack. The cop softened immediately, knowing that he probably looked intimidating, standing there in the darkness with squared shoulders and a tense body. 

Jim sat on the corner of the bed and just put his hand on Blair's cheek, a startlingly intimate gesture. He heard a little whoosh of air from the smaller man, surprised at his action. 

"I'm sorry," Jim said with a rare honesty. "I shouldn't have pounced you like that. I should have... I don't know..." 'What, ask first?' the older man thought to himself. 'Ask you first if I could please take you to bed and make love to you? And maybe love you for the rest of my life? Yeah, right! Now I sound like a damn Hallmark card.' 

"I wanted you to pounce me, Jim," Blair said very quickly, with the tone of a man who had suddenly decided to jump from a cliff and that it was better to get it over with. 

"WHAT??!" Blair heard the older man exclaim in disbelief. 

The hand on his cheek tensed and suddenly cupped his face to turn it toward his partner. Even with most of his attention on the current discussion, the younger man couldn't help but notice how good it felt to have this large, masculine, calloused hand touching him. 

"Oh, hell," Blair muttered to himself, thinking that if he was going to fuck up his life, he might as well make it truly spectacular. He straightened, grabbed Jim's head and blindly captured his mouth with his lips. A part of him still couldn't believe that he was doing this. But Jim's mouth seemed hot enough to burn him and the taste that was already so familiar to him was making his whole body react, longing to just pounce the man and devour him alive. 'Looks like I won't have any problem with hopping into bed with a man,' he distractedly noted to himself, while doing his best to get to his friend with his kissing technique. He mentally cheered when he realized that Jim didn't need much convincing. 

Shaking fingers impatiently pushed bothersome clothes away, seeking the hot flesh underneath. They both groaned impatiently when their clothes didn't melt away as they would have wanted. Fumbling impatiently, they struggled with each other's clothing until finally they were naked. 

Before Blair could react, he ended up flat on his back, a heavy and muscular sentinel on top of him, pushing him into the mattress, and it felt so good...better than good. In fact, it was incredibly arousing to have all this brute strength maintaining him, to feel the hard body of a man instead of the softness of a woman...to feel this incredible, burning kiss continue, getting deeper, feeling Jim's tongue exploring his mouth as if he was never going to get enough of him, never going to know enough about him. 

When the kiss finally broke, an eternity or two later, the sound of their harsh breathing was very loud in the night. To Blair, it seemed that everything had changed in the space of that kiss, that new possibilities were opening before him. 

A little more than two years ago, he'd stared into the eyes of this man, trying desperately to hide his fear because the almost out of control cop was pinning him against the wall, hoping that he could manage to get through to him, hoping that the larger man could see the truth in his eyes. A short while later, he was pleading with his eyes again, trying to convince Jim to let him stay in the loft after his place had blown up. Blair had known at that moment that he was treading dangerous water with someone who was supposed to be the object of his thesis, that he was becoming too involved. 

But he wanted more than anything to be the friend of this proud, silent man. He had wanted it even more that he had wanted to get unbiased data for a thesis that had quickly become his secondary object of interest. He could not foresee at the time that it would lead to Jim lying on top of him, kissing him in the big bed upstairs, but it made perfect sense, somehow. It explained everything--the longing to get closer to the detective, the desire to do absolutely anything to help him, the need to get to know the man and not only the sentinel. He felt a sense of peace, of being connected with the universe, having finally found his place in it. He knew that feeling would fade soon, and he was determined to savor it while he could. 

Blair shivered when he felt an erection pressing against him. Jim shifted until he was lying more on his side, giving Blair space to breathe and went back to softly caressing his face. Such a gentle gesture from such a strong man. Blair would never have expected tenderness from him, but it was good, so very good. The younger man quivered because he could feel in this single touch all the love and affection of the silent cop, all the feelings that had been contained behind this stoic appearance. 

"I love you," Blair suddenly whispered. Then he was straddling Jim, having completely forgotten that he didn't know what he was doing, just following his need to discover more, to get closer to this man, to imprint himself on his skin so deeply that Jim could never forget this, never deny that this had happened. That they could never go back to what they were before. 

Blair's lips and his hands were suddenly everywhere, gliding over smooth skin and hard muscles, the long hair making Jim shiver every time it brushed against his hypersensitive skin. He could feel all his dials spinning out of control, going so high that they were way past 10, but he didn't care. His guide was with him to ground him, and he was simply enjoying becoming a center of sensation awoken by the touch of his lover. All the nerves in his body suddenly came online to broadcast the pleasurable sensations, touch building upon touch, soon making it impossible to be really aware of what was happening to him. Jim closed his eyes and had the vision of his body being held in a warm embrace, suspended in mid-air, red flashes illuminating the darkness everytime Blair touched him, held him, loved him. He was only pleasure, only sensation. 

The wolf and the panther were running together in the darkness, running faster and faster toward a common goal. Their strides were elegant and easy, all the power of their minds concentrated in their body, focusing on getting where they wanted. Suddenly, they turned around in one smooth motion and jumped toward each other, inside each other, both at the same time. Panther and wolf became one for a brief moment. 

Someone screamed his pleasure and spasms shook two bodies united in the same orgasm. Blair clutched at Jim, leaving bruises, practically howling under the assault of the orgasm that was shaking him to the core, feeling his own senses expand, feeling for one moment like he was one with the man under him, sharing his pleasure. 

The two men clutched at each other, fighting to breathe fast enough to keep up with the demands of their heaving lungs, nerves singing in aftershock. Their bodies were shaking, not caring in the heat of the moment about what a mess they were. They held on to each other madly, panting into the night, seeing in their minds' eyes a wolf and a panther curled around each other. Secure in each other's arm, they laughed softly at the sheer pleasure of being alive and in love. 

* * *

Naomi looked at the letter she was holding in her hands with an intrigued expression. The letter was addressed to her from Blair and Jim. They had never before written to her together. 

She slowly walked back to the room where Charley was enthusiastically attacking his breakfast and silently handed him the letter, a soft smile playing on her lips, looking like a little girl who had done something naughty and was getting away with it. 

Charley looked at her with a wondering expression, trying to remember if he had ever seen her looking so happy. He glanced down at the envelope she was holding under his nose and reached out to take it in his hand. 'Desire, love, lust... Two men and two beasts intertwined together...' The images flashed into his head, strong, uncontrollable. He hurriedly let go of the letter and let it fall back on the table, a very bright blush suddenly appearing and climbing from his neck to his forehead. 

Naomi giggled and clapped her hands. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "They finally figured it out!" 

The End 

* * *

End Morning Kiss. 


End file.
